


Catch the Wind

by Scarlet_Claws



Category: Hades (Video Game 2018)
Genre: Anal Sex, Begging, Boat Sex, Charon shouldn't trust him, Curiosity, Enthusiastic Consent, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, Grinding, Hermes is a big tease, Kissing, Light Bondage, M/M, Muteness, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Slash, Smut, Stripping, Teasing, unusual anatomy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-05
Updated: 2020-11-06
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:21:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,416
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27402673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scarlet_Claws/pseuds/Scarlet_Claws
Summary: Charon has a lot of clothes, hiding what he looks like beneath. Hermes was always one to try and uncover secret places. Of course, being who he is, he also exploits that, but he should know by now that no one tricks the boatman of the dead without paying the price.
Relationships: Charon/Hermes (Hades Video Game)
Comments: 20
Kudos: 331





	1. Tell you Secrets to the Wind

**Author's Note:**

> For some reason, I'm on a writing spree and obsessed with this fandom. Woe me.

Charon’s body intrigued Hermes.

It wouldn’t be the first time that he got someone naked out of curiosity. Just because he was always in a hurry didn’t mean that he didn’t find the time to get a few lovers across the centuries – human lovers, at that, seldom some that were immortal. The novelty wore off, although the wonder didn’t, not when he was doing it with the right person.

Charon was most certainly different. His face was black and charred, skin still pulled tight over his cheekbones but with his teeth bare. He looked like a living skull and, in his own way, was only lovelier for it. But his hands were long, his arms were strong when his clothes slipped back far enough to reveal them, hardened by hours of boat-rowing and shade hauling. Hermes never saw what laid beyond. He couldn’t. Charon didn’t show him.

Yet.

Because Hermes was not ready, or at least he had told him he wasn’t. For someone that was running all over Greece at all time, he liked taking his relationships slow, especially when so special as his relationship with Charon. They were bound together for all eternity by their duty; hurrying things along, rushing them to the point of spoiling them, would be a waste.

And Charon, although obviously very eager from the way his hands sometimes wandered, was willing to indulge Hermes. Thankfully, he was patient.

That did not mean that Hermes wasn’t curious. Or feeling impish. He wanted to see what so other few had seen. Could they really blame him for that?

Even since Charon had confessed – and Hermes had confessed right back, with a kiss – they had found little moments, during the day, where they could meet each other. One such moment was when Hermes brought the shades through the temple of Styx and left them in Cerberus’ care just to wander ahead, behind the bend. There was a small spot where idle Charon liked to rest, especially now that he was looking to get more private with Hermes. It was hard to tell who of the two of them had come up with the idea and who had followed, as many things between them went without words, but it offered some privacy when others expected it the least. After all, mortal’s souls were either too terrified of mighty Cerebus, either uninterested in hurrying their descent into the Underworld, and left them alone for as long as they liked it under the guise of Hermes “fetching” Charon. In reality, the only fetching that happened was how good Charon looked in those robes.

He would look better without them, decided Hermes as he approached him.

His arms went to wrap around his tall frame, followed by Charon’s that wrapped around his. They tried to be quiet, yet the rustling of their clothes carried over the ever-quiet Styx that moved all around them. It was cold, yet red like blood – but at that moment it mattered not. In Charon’s arms, it was warm and safe.

“Hey, partner,” said Hermes.

He lifted himself off the ground, reaching for a kiss, and Charon gave it to him, the smoke from his mouth going to stroke Herme’s face and lips. Regardless of that, Hermes still smacked a small kiss on the boatman’s teeth, right at the canine, affectionately. Charon’s blew a heart-shaped bit of smoke on Hermes.

“I was thinking of something, partner.”

“Hmrrrg.”

“Just let me do, and stop me if you don’t like it, all right?”

First, Hermes stripped off his hat, tossing it over his shoulder. It floated off behind him, carried by his winds, to land on the tip of his boat.

Hermes reached for the large chain around his neck next. That one was a little harder to lift, considering how it was weighed down by the many obols hooked at its side. He really carried this every day, all day? It sounded unconceivable to Hermes.

Charon stopped him when he was about to toss it away. He made him understand that he wanted to keep that close, if he could. Hermes didn’t understand why, but he didn’t mind. So that went on the ground next to their feet.

The collar, while just as golden as his chain, only _looked_ metallic. In reality, there only was a thin layer of gold on it, and the rest was some mysterious cloth of the underworld. Hermes undid the knot that held it together and off dropped his cape.

Part of it, anyway. The layers that covered Charon seemed to be never-ending.

A large puff of smoke escaped from between Charon’s lips. He always did that when he was getting excited and, honestly, Hermes thought that it was sort of cute. Like he couldn’t quite control it.

That gave him courage for the rest. He worked through Charon’s second coat, that was dark and fluid around him – a gift of Nyx? – until it was all gone. But when Hermes was about to finally latch on the final layer, Charon stopped him, his hands engulfing his.

“What’s the matter? Partner?” asked Hermes. Had he gone too far already? Had he misunderstood Charon’s eagerness?

Charon seemed to hesitate. Through the shape of the smoke that escaped him, through the furrowing of his brow, he let Hermes know that he was worried. Or scared.

“I _want_ to see,” said Hermes. “It’s you, under there. I want to know you. All of you.”

That seemed to reassure him. But he still didn’t let him do, not quite yet. Instead, he backed off, finding a bench there, and sat down. Hermes half-kneeled, half-stood in front of him, on thin air, so he might be at just the right height too.

Charon finally let the final curtain fall, or rather the removed it. And Hermes’ eyes flew over the planes of his body that he revealed. As he had guessed, his lover was not quite human.

The searing of his flesh stopped a little lower than his neck, making way for full-fleshed grey skin – the skin of a chthonic god. And, on such a skin, the true effort that was required of Charon showed in its entirety. He was strong. Very much so, and Hermes loved it, reaching up to run his hand down his pectorals and over his abs.

But he wasn’t just that. Because at his sides emerged ribs, like if the bones below were on the surface of the skin instead. But they were not made of bones. Rather than that, they seemed to be made of glass, purple glass, in which purple smoke slowly swirled.

And under those ribs were slits rimmed with purple. Hermes didn’t resist touching those. When he pressed a curious finger to them, he felt them shudder, right before a puff of purple smoke escaped through them. How sensitive were they?

He got his answer very quickly by just outlining them: from somewhere above him came a groan, the likes of which he had never hear but that he recognized anyway: Charon was letting him know that he very much enjoyed his touches. Hermes made note of it.

He didn’t resist kissing him. He leaned up, to his cheek, where he laid a peck. Charon’s hand slipped behind his head. But Hermes continued, lower, down his blackened throat, over his collar bone. He sought out a nipple and kissed the little patch of darkened skin, that hardened under his touch, as if seeking more. But he was already at the ribs because they felt so smooth under his lips. Then he continued downwards until he stopped.

“Well then, that was nice,” said Hermes against the planes of Charon’s stomach.

The chthonic god’s touch stilled on the back of Hermes’ head but didn’t tighten enough that he would prevent him from escaping, as he did but a fraction of a second later. Charon reached out for him with a groan, with both his hands too, and in his eye was the _want_ that Hermes craved most.

He’d take that look with him on his round. Oh, and the sight of how much Charon desired him as well, standing proudly in his lap, hidden still by the pooling silk of his clothes. Hermes knew he would torture himself over how big he looked, how hot he could get against his lips – or inside him. Anticipation always seemed to be the best part.

“I best be on my way,” he said. “You know how it is. Work, work, work. See you next time!”

He zipped off, uncaring for the low, needy groan that chased after him – or so it seemed. He knew it would haunt him.


	2. Catch the Wind

Once again, Hermes had to leave the shades with Cerebus, but this time not out of his free will. Charon, always so punctual, had not shown up. And Hermes was starting to worry. Sometimes, the shades of the underworld tried to revolt, no matter how weak they might be, and sometimes they could target Charon. Not that the latter was an easy one to fight.

Which was why his lack of presence was double worrying. He knew that he had specific times at which he should be present and he had never missed those before.

(Hermes did not think that the stunt he had pulled the day before, with its teasing, was also something that had never happened before. He was so worried about Charon that he had forgotten that important detail.)

And so, he went to seek out the boatman on his own, uncaring that it might hinder his own tight timings. If something had happened to Charon, he wanted to be the first one to know.

He floated down on the winds of his winged shoes, following a bend in the river’s course. Here, the waters were making their way through rock tunnels, before a plunging waterfall that brought them down in the deepest depth of the underworld. There were no shades here, so close to the surface, yet nothing alive venture this deep under the ground – save for patches of bioluminescent bacteria on the rock. It was the no-man’s-land frontier between the living and the dead.

A hand from the water grabbed Hermes at the ankle.

He cried out in shock and tried to gain some altitude but the hold on him was like the one of an iron chain. With each pull upwards, he dragged the dark form of Charon and his boat out of the waters. He looked down, and, when he saw who it was, he thought that he was safe, but then he was dragged down and almost slammed on the bottom of the boat.

He looked up at Charon, mouth gaping in shock. Never had been caught like that before.

“What—“

Hands, red like blood, summoned from the very waters of the Styx, suddenly emerged over the sides, gripping Hermes at the wrists. He cried out again and tried to struggle, but he was held down at the bottom of the boat. Unable to fly away. Pinned like a beautiful butterfly in a display.

Charon’s boat, sailing on its own, brought them to a bend on the side of the river, to a small depression in the rock. Once nestled in there, with walls on all sides and a ceiling over their heads, they could only be seen from the river. This was the privacy they needed.

Hermes could see where this was going.

Charon, like a vulture landing on its prey, lowered himself on Hermes, and his coats were like dark wings that settled over his frail form. His single eye was burning the god of the wind, deep down to his deepest secrets. As if Charon didn’t know them already.

His large hands went to grip Hermes at the hips, under the skirt of his chiton. With a flick of his arms, he turned it around, revealing that Hermes wore nothing beneath.

Hermes produced a small “eep.” He tried to close his legs, but Charon was in the way, still firmly holding him by the hips. It wasn’t his nudity that he was trying to hide – he would be wearing undergarment if that was something he worried about in the first place – but the half-hard mast he had been sprouting. It was an embarrassing proof that being wanted this badly turned him on.

Because it did. There was a hunger in the other’s eye that was almost animal-like when he looked at Hermes, and to be desired in this way made a fitful hunger bloom in the pit of the wind god’s stomach. How he had grabbed him, the place, the setup – this looked like the sort of secret fantasies he might have at night.

Charon looked down and saw it. Hermes’ obvious excitement, but also his lack of undergarment, his golden skin, and his strong yet supple thighs, they were all laid bare for him. He opened his mouth and a large puff of smoke escaped.

“Partner—” Hermes whispered.

He was hushed by the low growl of the other. He knew that sound well now, it was the one of desire, Charon’s purest expression of it. He had awakened such a beast and had left it contained in the Underworld with nothing to eat. Now, it was only claiming what it craved most.

But Charon was still holding those bare hips of his, his rough, wide hand firmly clasped upon the bone. He used that grip to lift the smaller god’s backside up, angling it perfectly with his crotch. And then he ground himself on it. Hermes winced as his sensitive ass was rubbed against the rough cloth, back and forth.

However, such sensitivity allowed him to notice rather quickly that Charon was also getting hard. There was no mistaking the rigid length under there for yet another pouch of coins.

Hermes gasped. He could already tell that it was big, even for Charon’s towering size. Fitting him in was going to be an exploit – an exploit that already made his insides melt just thinking about it. He loved being desired in a way that bordered on self-destruction, he loved pushing himself to his limit.

“Oh yes,” he whispered. “Ruin me, _partner_. Hold me down and— and fuck me like you mean it.”

A grunt answered him. One of Charon’s hand left his hip to undo his own clothes. The first coat fell off, to the side. He took a second to take off the heavy chain around his neck, setting it around Hermes’ head like an aura. Coins and his lover’s flustered face, all contained in a single glance – what a sight for the boatman of the dead!

When he opened his second coat and his collar, Hermes was now surrounded on all sides by dark drapes. It was as if he was laying in a coffin. But the only death that he would suffer would be one of pleasure, or so said the promise contained in Charon’s eye.

Lastly, Charon reached for the crest-like pin that held his chiton together and opened it. The cloth fell, retained at his waist by a belt but revealing those protuberant glass ribs and the slits-like gills underneath. Hermes briefly wondered if Charon could breathe underwater if that was their purpose. After all, that was where he had laid, hidden in wait, for his passage. That was how he had surprised the uncatchable god of the wind – not that anyone would know that he did.

Hermes rose his legs on each side of Charon’s chest, aiming for those gills. He rubbed his knees over them, softly, trying to test what sort of effect that would have on his lover. The result was immediate.

Charon groaned, the sound a mix between surprise and an expression of pleasure. Twin clouds of smoke escape them, wrapping down Hermes’ thighs in long ribbons or purple. They were more solid than air, too frail to grip but strong enough to caress. Their light touch made Hermes shudder in turn, especially as they focused on the thin skin behind his knees and between his thighs. They danced across the distance, building up their effect as they lowered themselves to the apex of Hermes’ legs.

Hermes bit his lip to muffle a small cry when they finally reached their destination. He was sensitive enough that the touch, no matter how slight, was enough to make him shudder. The smoke engulfed his half-mast, turning it into a full-blow erection from the sensation alone. With his hands held down, he was powerless to stop it. He didn’t want to. 

As if that victory wasn’t enough for him, one of Charon’s hands left Hermes’ thigh to slip up his body; he rubbed small circles over his clothes over his chest. Hermes’ breath caught in his throat when the touch ghosted over his nipple. Even the brief contact was enough to harden it into a point.

Charon noticed, of course. And he used it against Hermes.

His long fingers found their way under Hermes’ chiton through the opening of the arm. He pulled it just enough that the tense patch of pink would show, and then he rubbed it. Hermes let out a small moan. Charon used both his thumb pad and his nail on him, and when he left it, it was only pinker, flustered from the pressure.

Charon hummed in content, then reached down to undo his belt. He had seen enough. Hermes couldn’t be tamer than he was now, he was ready – eager – to be taken.

Charon’s erect dick was strange but familiar; it looked like the one of a man with the texture and colour of one of his ribs – swirling purple smoke included. It was beautiful. Hermes suddenly regretted not having gone all the way yesterday, or at least offering him a blowjob. He wanted to explore it with his hands and lay his lips on it. He wanted to taste it. He wanted... so much.

At least he was going to feel it up his ass. His ass, that was not being circled by the light strokes of Charon’s smokes. It teased him there, pulling his train of thoughts towards what was coming next.

“Erm, say, partner,” he said, a little out of breath, “you didn’t forget... the lube... right? There’s no way I’m taking that... not... not dry!”

Charon shook his head. A red, watery hand of the Styx handed him a small bottle from somewhere outside Hermes’ field of vision. He had to lean back a little to get some on his hand. Herme’s heart started to beat quicker when Charon made sure to prepare three of his fingers.

He dissipated the smoke at Hermes’ ass with a quick swing of his hand. The firm touch of his pointer finger replaced its ghostly caresses. It circled around it, pressing a little firmer each time. Hermes squirmed. He knew that Charon was teasing him and it was working.

“Please,” he said, “please, put it in me. I want— I want it, and then I want—“ He didn’t finish that sentence. They both knew what he meant.

Charon finally breached him, giving him what he craved. One after the other, the digits sank in him, and Hermes moaned softly for each one of them. And then he curled his finger and instantly found that spot inside that made Hermes arch his back with a small cry. If Charon could have smiled, he would have. He let out a plume of smoke instead, and that one curled in delight around the edges of his mouth.

A second finger pushed in, then a third. Each time, Hermes hissed from the slight burn, but he was quickly pacified by a rub to his prostrate. Not that he entirely disliked the slight pain, to be frank, but he was also laughably easy to tame. He would relax around those fingers almost too soon and even whimpered when they drew away.

Next came the head of Charon’s cock, and that on its own was a whole other story. It was firm and hot, burning even, its blunt end pressing against the tight ring of Hermes’ muscles. The god of the winds arched his back, then forced himself to relax. For a second, he doubted that it would fit at all.

Against all expectations, Hermes was breached. And even if Charon moved slowly – for now – it burned, burned so good that Hermes loved it. His knees tightened around Charon’s waist, tightened like his muscles around Charon’s cock. The other took it as a signal that he should slow down even more, to a point that Hermes couldn’t help but whimper in protest. He gave small shakes with his hips, begging for more.

He wanted it. Badly.

Charon understood and obeyed. He pushed into Hermes, and the hands that held him by the wrists needed all of their strength to hold him so that he wouldn’t slide up the boat. Held between a rock and a hard place, Hermes had to take it, and take it he did, all the way, until that thick length was all settled in his stomach. It felt heavy. So big. Deep.

Hermes was shaking from the sensation, just a little. During the brief respite that he was given afterwards, he took a long breath. The trembling and the burn slowly faded away. When he was ready for it, he begged.

“Charon,” he whispered. He almost never used that name. At that moment, it felt so intimate to do so. “Please. Could you please— I want— _Faster._ ”

A sound that resembled a chuckle passed Charon’s teeth and he did as he asked, again. He pulled back, leaving a throbbing hollow behind him – but not for long. Hermes moaned as he welcomed him back eagerly. He felt that extra rush when Charon passed his prostate, a rush that made him jolt with pleasure this time and each time after. He even pushed against him, urging him. And he did up the pace, quickly at that.

Hermes could hear the swooshing of the water around them, with each thrust of Charon’s hips. It accentuated the swings of his own body, how he was pulled away and brought back to him – with him pushing in so deeply inside that it was almost uncomfortable. Hermes had no power there, no way to escape. His dick couldn’t get any harder, but it almost felt like it the more he thought about it.

Actually, scratch that. A white bead of precum appeared at the top of his erection, quickly dislodged by one of Charon’s bone-wracking thrusts. It fell on Hermes’ stomach like a kiss. It was but the first of what was still yet to come, that all-consuming wave of pleasure that was building inside Hermes – in that spot Charon’s dick was hitting dead-on with each passage.

Hermes’ toes curled in delight and he let out a small sob. He craved that release but, at the same time, it was almost too much already. A second drop of precum dripped on his stomach, leaving a small patch to cool next to the first.

He was getting so dangerously _close_.

He wanted to hold Charon by the shoulders, dig his nails in his wide back, but he only struggled pointlessly against his bindings. Instead, all he was left with was heave his fate in Charon’s hands. Not that he didn’t know how to take care of him, striking him always in that spot that made stars dance on the edge of his vision.

“Cha—Charon,” he begged.

“Hrmmpf.”

“I’m sorry but I’m going to— I can’t—“

The moment he said that, Charon aimed right as his weak point, cutting him short as he gasped. All his thoughts were swiped away. Pleasure swelled in his abdomen, burning him. And then came a second hit. And a third.

He came with a scream that vaguely looked like his partner’s name. Charon fucked the orgasm right out of him, riding him like he meant to do him in, and Hermes was absolutely powerless to stop him. He saw white. Everything around him disappeared save for the sheer, burning pleasure.

When he came to, Charon was obviously close too. His cheeks were flushed purple, his smoke came out in puffs. He was still going, but not for long. Soon enough, he buried himself deeply in Hermes and came, and Hermes saw it all. He drank the sight in. The light in Charon’s eye flickered for a second, his powerful abs hollowed in, his chest heaved, and smoke billowed out of him, through his mouth and his gills. A deep, content sound rumbled in his chest.

And then he relaxed, but remained in Hermes for a while. The red hands that were holding him down slowly slinked away.

Hermes reached up to stroke Charon’s cheek. He caressed it, back and forth, a few times as they both caught their breath.

“Well, that was nice, partner,” he said. He managed to back up a little, pulling away from Charon’s softening dick, then smoothened down the skirt of his chiton. “We should do it again but now we really got to go – we’re both off schedule by a mile. The shades are with Cerebus. See you around!”

Hermes almost escaped but, once again, he was held back by his ankle. He grunted in distress. Not _again_.

Charon reeled him back with a grunt, then presented him with a dark cloth. When Hermes didn’t understand, he placed it in his hand and pointed at the front of his chiton.

It was covered in Hermes’ cum.

“Oh! Oh dear, I almost ran out with that.” Hermes quickly wiped it away. It was a good thing that white on white wasn’t too visible, that would have to do for now. “Thank you, partner. I can always count on—“

Charon, probably knowing that he would leave as soon as he would finish his sentence, had placed a hand on the back of his head, leaned in, and kissed him. His smoke swiped Hermes across the lips.

“For the road,” said Hermes, softly. He smiled. “See you around, partner.”

And, just like that, he was gone again, as if nothing had happened. No one other than Hermes felt those prints on his skin and inside him, where Charon had touched him, and he would carry them with him wherever he went.

There would be another time. Many more times, in fact, if Hermes had anything to say about it.


End file.
